On the Shoulders of Giants
by James.Bean
Summary: "What does one say to a monster…?" She had asked him so many years ago, with that small sad smile on her face. She had never seemed scared of him, not even when she had witnessed first hand the brutality that he had wrought. And he watched her as she watched him smiling that smile, as though she could see behind the mask, "...More importantly what does the monster say back?"
1. Prologue: Burn

**Disclaimer:** Batman is not my creation anything you do recognize - concepts, locations, characters etc, are copyright their respective owners. Anything you don't recognize belongs to me.

**AN:** So I had originally posted this before, however my computer broke and I decided to take it down, revamp and then continue. This story will contain a certain influence from the comics, but nothing that will leave anyone confused. So with that said, here it goes…

_**On the Shoulders of Giants.**_

"What does one say to a monster…?" She had asked him so many years ago, with that small sad smile on her face. She had never seemed scared of him, not even when she had witnessed first hand the brutality that he had wrought. And he watched her, watching him smiling that smile, as though she could see behind the mask, "..More importantly what doe the monster say back?"

* * *

**Prologue: Burn.**

**"When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire".**

**- Anon.**

_*v*_

_Osita. Little bear…Come, Osita._

_Where are you Osito. Where did you go?_

_Do not be afraid. Go, go!_

_Goodbye…_

Aidah wakes with a scream trapped in her throat.

She can feel the sweat trickling from her forehead, down her face, over her chin, before pooling in the hollow of her neck. The stickiness of her nightmare covers her body like a second skin. Her heart is pounding. _Pounding. Pounding. Pounding. _Pounding so hard against her chest that it is painful.

A panicked breath escapes her mouth, a half strangled sob and for a moment she forgets just where she is.

_Just for a moment._

Then she opens her eyes and then, then she remembers. Remembers just where she is, who she is. A calmness descends over her as darkness swarms her vision. As her eyes adjust to the gloom, she remembers that she is not afraid of the dark. That she must not be afraid of the dark. For there was nothing in dark would hurt her.

_"Only if you let it." _He had said, he was crouched in front of her, there she was a mere slip of a girl, crying and frightened, being comforted by a giant of a man. _"Remember fear of the unknown is a powerful thing. Face your fears and with it you will learn not to be afraid." _And she had.

She had faced them, had combated them. Destroyed them.

All but one.

All but the memory of that place.

She tries not to think of it, but sometimes when she least expects it, in the stillness of the night. It manages to sneak upon her. Makes her relive things that she would rather be kept hidden. Unwanted memories.

_Osita, little bear, come, come with us._

_"Memories shape who we are. They do not define us. Remember that." _Remember, remember. She must remember.

The voice plagues her waking thoughts. It is always there; a shadow in her mind. Leading her. Testing her. Berating her. Controlling her, if she so let it.

_Remember. Remember._

* * *

_*v*_

She rolls over in her bed.

She uses the term loosely for it is nothing but a thin mattress placed in the corner of her room. The springs creak with the movement. Her blanket is twisted around her feet and she hastily kicks it away. A soft breeze blows in from the open window. It has a cooling effect on her fevered skin. The sash across the window stirs slightly. A gentle sway.

She shifts slightly.

The harsh glare from the laptop screen next to her bed hurts her eyes. It casts dancing shadows across the far wall. She watches them, watches as they move, as they transform into creatures. Creatures, long and bony, with wings unfurling from their backs. Reaching out towards her, to carry her away.

She blinks, looks away, wipes the sleep from her eyes and listens to the stillness of the room.

Nothing stirs.

This place is too quiet, she thinks. It is disturbing how the silence prevailed. So much so that even the most innocent of noises sounded foreign and strange to her ears. She hates the quiet and all it entails. Hates the false sense of security it portrays. The feelings of peace, of calm and safety. The quiet before the storm.

And there was a storm brewing, that was for certain. Anyone who didn't, couldn't feel it was a fool.

As for Gotham ….Gotham was smack dab in the middle of it.

All is quiet, all is still.

_Osito. _The voice whispers out mockingly. _Osito where are you?_

Glassy eyes stare back at her from the his place upon her pillow. He is a tattered, dirty thing, but she won't part with him.

For as long as he is there … So will her memory of him.

She reaches out, runs a finger over the face, feels the matted fur, the threadbare patches. The nose has long since gone and the stitching of where his mouth used to be had long since unravelled. The only thing holding his face together was her hasty and crude stitching.

She would never be a seamstress. She is not gentle enough, not patient enough. She smiles slightly at the thought, and at what she had created. He really is a sorry looking thing. He should have been thrown away a long time ago. She will not part with him though. For parting with him, would be like parting with a piece of herself and she cannot forget. She must not forget. A small part of her does not want to.

Wounds, tears, these things could be mended, but no matter how much you tried they could never be hidden. They could never be fixed. Just like Osito.

_Just like him._

* * *

_*v*_

She frowns at the thought. Sighs, breathes deeply, her quickened heartbeat finally stars to slows

She sits up, rests her head in her hands. Her visions is obscured by long dark hair, and she lets out a shuddering sigh.

No, there was nothing peaceful about this place. The chaos, the noise was still there; just under the surface, waiting to erupt. Nothing stayed quiet for long. There was always someone who wanted to destroy the illusion of peace.

For that in it's very essence was what Gotham was. An illusion based on the legacy of a dead man. And what an illusion it was. For the past eight years it had cast the city into the false sense of security

A security that would soon be shattered. For the remnant of the man who haunted the city and all the inhabitants who lived in it, would be soon burnt away with fire leaving naught but ashes in its wake.

She stretches, walks softly towards the window, looking out across the city she stands there and listens. Leans against the wall, arms folded across her chest.

There's a siren in the distance. The sound of voices arguing, of a woman laughing two blocks over. The smash of glass, of bottle rolling across the sidewalk. Of cats fighting. The bark of a dog.

The breeze comes in from across the bay, bringing with it a slight chill that raises goose bumps upon her arms. She breathes in deeply tastes the bitter tang of salt on her tongue. Smells the water and the dankness of the city.

She knows what she must do. Just the thought however.

The thought is most unsettling.

She always said that she wouldn't choose. That their mission wasn't hers, hadn't been hers for such a long time. That was why she had left, why she had disappeared. She has wanted a simple life. Nothing more, nothing less. And for a while she had just that, a simple existence, a job that she loved and friends that she cared for.

Alas like most things, life was never simple. It hadn't been in her childhood, so why did she think that adulthood would prove any different? She wasn't a little girl anymore. She couldn't just hide, cover her ears, screw her eyes shut so tightly that it hurt. She couldn't pretend that everything was fine. That nothing was happening.

Not anymore.

She catches her reflection in the glass of the window. Large, weary eyes peering out from beneath her too long fringe. Her features were drawn, the familiar_ 'v'_ creasing her brow, always worrying. Her cheeks are hollowed, her face gaunt. She hasn't eaten that much this week. Too much to think about to much. Her teeth are tugging on skin of her bottom lip. A slight tear and the familiar taste of copper fills her mouth.

Beyond her reflection the crest of the sun appears, and as the darkness is chased away. She watches, she sees and she remembers.

_Hidden in the corner, her back against the stone wall. She is crouched, curled into herself. She can feel the intense heat of the sun beating down on her uncovered head can feel the stone scrape against her skin, as she tried to disappear. Her eyes are closed, closed so tightly that a kaleidoscope of colours burst behind her eye lids. Hands clamped over ears. She can still hear her though. Can still see the swarm of men tearing at her. Of her Father fighting to get to them. The desperation in his blue eyes. She can still see the look in her eyes and those frantic wailing calls. Amna. Amna. _

_Mother._

She closes her eyes and with it the memory disappears like smoke would on water. Another less welcome one fills its place.

* * *

_*v*_

_"It's time to choose little one. You know better than anyone else, fire rises and with it so shall we."_

There was strength in her eyes when she had spoken those words to her. A belief that would not, could not be swayed. For she was completing Ra Al Ghuls legacy.

Her Father's legacy, now hers.

Their hands were clasped together, she could feel the bit of her nails cutting into her skin. No letting go. Just as they had been when they were children. Such a small gesture of comfort, but one that held so much weight behind it.

The years had changed them both, but her eyes. Her eyes had not changed. The fire behind them

_"And if I cannot choose? If I do not?"_

She had not heard him as he emerged from the darkness. She has not realised that he had been there as they talked. Though she was not surprised to find him there. For wherever Talia would go….

_"Then you shall burn as Gotham falls." _She had closed her eyes at the sight of him. His stature made the room seem so much smaller. Made her feel tiny almost childlike again in his wake. Half covered in shadow, he stood there watching her. A monster awakening for a deep dark sleep.

_Osito._

This was for him. For them. For her.

_For him most of all._

A fire will rise and in it's wake Gotham shall fall.

A fire will rise.

There was just one thing that concerned Aidah. One that was clear to her as day encroaching upon the city.

She jumps at the sound of the gunshot ringing out across the city. Fire may rise, cleansing everything and everyone in its path.

But when there was nothing left to burn.

_Fire would also burn itself out._

* * *

Please review.


	2. Chapter 1: Icarus

**Disclaimer:** Batman is not my creation anything you do recognize - concepts, locations, characters etc, are copyright their respective owners. Anything you don't recognize belongs to me.

**AN:** Many thanks for the reviews. Also in case I don't update before, Merry Christmas and all that jazz.

_**On the Shoulders of Giants.**_

"What does one say to a monster…?" She had asked him so many years ago, with that small sad smile on her face. She had never seemed scared of him, not even when she had witnessed first hand the brutality that he had wrought. And he watched her, watching him smiling that smile, as though she could see behind the mask, "..More importantly what does the monster say back?"

* * *

**Chapter 1: Icarus.**

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

**Lord Acton.**

_**v**_

"_Do you know what happened to Icarus?"_

_"What? Tell me, please?"_

_"Ah paqueno, he flew too close to the sun."_

The young woman has to swallow the lump in her throat. She can feel the familiar sting behind her eyes. The tell tale sign of tears. She blinks, tries to control her breathing. Her heart is erratic, she can hear the pounding of it in echoing her ears. This was her life once more. There was no turning back, not now.

She has come too far.

The smell of urine and faeces permeates the air. It makes her gag and she has to swallow the bile rising in her throat. She must not show weakness, she must not show emotion.

"Please, please. Have mercy, mercy." He is babbling away to himself a mixture of English and Ukrainian. It is only when she really listens that she realises he is praying. Words calling for mercy, for pity. He crawls forward clawing at Bane's boots, hands bloody and torn. Grovelling at his feet for forgiveness.

"I am sorry, sorry, sorry. Mercy, I beg of you." He looks up, a pregnant pause. His eyes widen.

A kick is all it takes. The mans terrified whimpers are suddenly silenced._ And_ s_he, she cannot take her eyes off of him._

_**v**_

She remembers as a child she had been transfixed by the sight of him. Everything he had done, everything he had said she had hung off of his every word. Followed him like she was his own personal shadow. She had wanted to immolate him, to be like him. A small part of herself still did. For he had been her friend. He had been her everything.

Until he was exiled.

Her Father would not speak of it. His blue eyes would blaze in anger every time that she broached the subject. _Of him, of that day._ He would not speak to her about him. _She was too young, he had said. She wouldn't understand, he had said. She was just a child, he had said. _

But like most children she was an inquisitive creature, it was in her nature after all. She had bided her time and had she waited, and then when she believed the time to be right she had asked _"why?"_

Ra's Al Ghul told her that it was necessary to ensure the survival of the League of Shadows. He was too volatile to control. Too unstable. Too broken. _"You must understand young one, that men like him have no place with us." _He had placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, giving her a small comforting squeeze before he had walked away, his men flocking around him like he was their King and she had stood there. Stood there and watched, watched as the sand storm kicked up, watched him walk away leaving her feeling so very confused and lonely for the first time that she could ever remember.

No she had not understood. How could she have understood? She was naught but a child of 11 years old. He had been their, _her _protector. Just like Osito who had been clutched firmly in her hands, she had thought him to always be there. That he would always be with them for he had done nothing wrong. Nothing except help them.

After his exile she had watched as Talia withdrew into herself. Watched the look of betrayal that haunted her eyes every time she spoke to her Father. It didn't come as a surprise when Talia finally disappeared following in the wake of her savoir. By then Aidah had been 15 and she was left with nothing but the memories of the time they had shared together.

And the story of Icarus.

* * *

_*v*_

**Present Day, 20 minutes earlier.**

It hadn't been hard tracking down the good Doctor. With the Leagues connections it had been fairly easy for her to find out where Pavel had gone; of who he had been talking with and especially those who had helped him plan his so called 'escape'.

Still she thought; as her blue weary eyes cast a look over her bleak surroundings. She had believed that would have chosen anywhere other than_ here._ The Doctor however appeared to be a creature of habit and like most people were, they always went to places that they believed offered then a semblance of safety.

That notion however would soon be torn away.

So it was in Odessa, Ukraine that Aidah Volkova had found Dr. Leonid Pavel hiding in squalor. The environment was harsh, cold and so very unforgiving. It was February after all. One of the coldest months of the year. The wind was blowing hard and strong, it loosens the braid on her hair, she can feel the loose strands swirling around her head. Taking on the semblance of a dirty halo. The air is that keen it stings her lungs as she breathes in. Breath puffs out from her mouth in clouds of white, her cheeks reddened and hands left numb in its wake.

She hunkers down in her warm winter coat. Stamps her booted feet on the frozen ground as though the action would breathe life into her frozen digits. She listens to the wind whistling through the empty buildings surrounding them. It is an eerie sound; as though she is listening to silent scream in the air. Dusk is falling and she shivers at the cold. She leans against one the stationary jeeps. Hands tucked underneath her armpits in an attempt to keep what little feeling she had left in her near frozen fingers.

And it is here as she leans and listens that she watches.

Watches as Pavel is dragged from the house. His black hair is in disarray, clothes crumbled, a six a clock shadow on his cheeks. A sight for sorry eyes. It is the look on his face that causes her to stand up straight. The look of utter defeat as he is thrown into the back of the waiting truck.

She catches the long hard look from Barsad. A signal for her to be ready, that it was almost time for them to go. Watches as he mouths the words _'stay',_ before her eyes follow his path towards the derelict house and once she his certain that she has disappeared from his view, once the front door closes heavily behind him, the ominous thud echoing through the air.

Only then does she decide to follow.

'_Stay?' _She snorts in derision, she wasn't a dog.

_**v**_

The so called safe house is nothing but a cesspit of peoples and smells, she thinks as she manoeuvres around frightened children and crying adults, sides steps over sleeping or maybe dead bodies; she can't quite tell in the poor light. Clutter is everywhere. The entire place smelt of death and decay. Trash, clothes and food wrappers littered the floor. She wrinkled her nose at the familiar stench.

It brings back memories of her childhood, for she had been raised in places such as this. In shanty towns and backstreets of violent cities. Travelling through Asia, Africa, Europe. Raised with the filth and degradation that society bred.

In towns where people lived for hope. Hunger was their motivation. Anger their weapon. Despair ultimately their death. She knew what despair could do. She had first hand experience of the poverty it entailed. Knew what it was like to wonder where the next meal would come from, the next scrap of human decency. The belief that things would get better.

She could empathize with the people living like this, and what desperation, of what fear could do to a person. She could understand the actions of the men who had tried to sell them out but she would never their reasoning, she would never understand their pleads of mercy and she would never understand betrayal.

_**v**_

The room is dark. The only light from the fire in the grate. _Flickering. Flickering. _It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. It truly was a dismal place to be holed up in, crumbling walls, torn damp wallpaper.

A sorry place to end your life.

The man is pleading. Had been pleading since Barsad and the others had dragged them from their cots. There had been curses at first. Vehement denials, they had done nothing wrong. They were for the cause, they would never betray them. They would die before they betrayed them.

Before they betrayed _him_.

She was lying they had shouted at her as she stood and watched. Spittle foaming from their bloodied lips. Hate and anger directed at her perfected mask of indifference. Shouts of vengeance and of justice. So she stood and she watched just like she had been taught. She did not acknowledge their accusations, did not acknowledge them. After a while they finally realized that there was no escape, and when the spark had gone from their eyes. When their defiance slowly evaporated from them like smoke on air.

Then, then they had realised the truth.

_That they would die._

She slips into the room, unnoticed for she is not meant to be here. Bane hadn't wanted her there. But then she wasn't the innocent young girl she had been all those years ago. There is a small part of her that cannot stay away. For like Icarus and the sun there is a pull towards him and she follows, no matter the risk of being burnt.

She was the moth to his flame.

The first thing she had noticed about him were his eyes. Wide and fearful. They looked through her, at her, at Barsad. Pleading, _please, please. I'm sorry_. His lip was split open and dry blood had crusted and matted with the scruff of a beard upon his chin. Wrists bloodied and chaffed from bindings. Tears are pooling at the corner of his blue eyes. _Blue eyes like Papa. _Her hands clench into fists. She watches as his mouth trembles. A shaky sigh escapes showing crooked, broken teeth. He is a man; nothing more.

A broken man.

But there is no place for broken men. No place for them. No place for them here.

_His name is Lyoza she remembers. _

Lyoza and Mikael.

_Detka. Pequeno. Little one?_

She shakes her head, trying to dislodge his voice from her mind. _Papa, Papa. Forgive me._

"_Do you know what happened to Icarus?"_

_"What? Tell me, please?"_

_"Ah paqueno, he flew too close to the sun."_

_Do you know what happened to Icarus?"_

_"What? Tell me, please?"_

_"Ah paqueno, he flew too close to the sun."_

The young woman has to swallow the lump in her throat. She can feel the familiar sting behind her eyes. The tell tale sign of tears. She blinks, tries to control her breathing. Her heart is erratic, she can hear the pounding of it in echoing her ears. This was her life once more. There was no turning back, not now.

She has come too far.

The smell of urine and faeces permeates the air. It makes her gag and she has to swallow the bile rising in her throat. She must not show weakness, she must not show emotion.

"Please, please. Have mercy, mercy." He is babbling away to himself a mixture of English and Ukrainian. It is only when she really listens that she realises he is praying. Words calling for mercy, for pity. He crawls forward clawing at Bane's boots, hands bloody and torn. Grovelling at his feet for forgiveness.

"I am sorry, sorry, sorry. Mercy, I beg of you." He looks up, a pregnant pause. His eyes widen.

A kick is all it takes. The mans terrified whimpers are suddenly silenced._ And_ s_he, she cannot take her eyes off of him._

Where his nose had once been there was nothing but a hollow hole. Cartilage and bone caved inwards, blood runs thick vibrant red. The smell and taste of it is thick in the air. She becomes transfixed with it. It has been a long time since she had seen someone die.

She does not look away. No matter how much she wants to.

"_Never look away Detka. Never." She had nodded, felt the tears make tracks down her cheeks as her Father laid the mangled body of the boy at her feet. "Never look away."_

_**v**_

"This is justice?" The other man laughs, a harsh guttural sound as he is dragged forward into the centre of the room. His name is Mikael she remembers. _Mikael from Serbia. _The sound of his laughter hurts her ears. "You stand there and judge my actions? But who are you to judge me?" He spits at Bane, the bloodied saliva lands short but the insult behind it is there all the same. Angry curses fall from bloodied lips. He struggles against his captors as they force him to his knees.

This one is not afraid and feeling she has is quiet indescribable. She does not know whether to pity him or respect him. He is defiant even in the face of his death. He does not show regret. He has no remorse for his actions.

Bane looks at him. A look cold and calculating, a look that sends shivers up her spine. He crouches down, leaning back on the haunches of his heels. One large hand resting on the back of Mikael's neck.

_He has a Daughter called Marie. She is twenty three, with blonde hair and green eyes, she sells her body to make money. He hasn't spoken to her for ten years. _

"Only God can judge me." The man whispers out. Bane cocks is head to the side. His forehead furrowed in thought, dark eyes watching intently. Heavy mechanical breathing.

"…And in some cases we are obliged to overrule his decisions." A sudden movement, the crack of a neck. The disturbing sound of breaking bone and cartilage echoes around the room, breaking the tense silence. Their stagnant pause for breath. Mikael's body slumps forward, his head hanging at an unnatural angle, arms spread outwards. It was done. It was over with. The room seems to sigh with relief, the tensions slips from the room as they make their way outside.

Secrets had been spilled, Pavel had told Bane all about his deal with the CIA.

The men huddle around him, awaiting their order. The flicker of the torches glint off his mask casting moving shadows over his face.

"They mean to capture me." His tone is mocking and there is a sparkle behind his grey eyes that she doesn't quite understand. "Well gentleman, perhaps it is time that I was caught." They laugh and jeer and Aidah frowns at the thought.

_**v**_

She follows him to the jeep. Huddled deep down in her winter coat, she approaches him carefully. He turns to look at her, silently acknowledging her presence. She doesn't speak, just watches him as he moves. Suddenly transported back to childhood.

"How did you know?" She finally asks, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She can hear his mechanical breathing it is an almost comforting sound. He stops his movements.

"They all run in the end. I do not blame them. For that is their nature."

"You expected it from them and you still let it happen?" She knew that he hated questions, he hated to be questioned but she needed, no that was the right word she had wanted to understand_. "Why?"_

"The nature of the beast…." The corners of his eyes crinkle up. She believes him to be smiling, but with the mask she can never be quite sure.

He looks at her, one last look that keeps her rooted to the spot. Grey eyes meet blue. A pause of a moment. A look of understanding. _The fire is rising. _A nod of his …approval?

Barsad hands her the burlap sack. She can feel the roughness of the black material in her hands. There is a lump in her throat, hands shaking with cold or fear she cannot quite distinguish and she smiles at him. That small sad smile of hers, it is the last thing he sees before she places the sack over his head pulling it until it covers the entirety of his face. She steps back, watches as Bane's hands are bound behind his back. And all she can do is watch as Barsad leads him away.

She wants to call after him, but she knows better than that. Her fists clench at the roar of jeeps engine.

The trap had been set.

And she is alone once more, left with nothing but memories and the story of Icarus.

"_Do you know what happened to Icarus?"_

_"What? Tell me, please?"_

_"Ah pequeno, he flew too close to the sun."_

_"The sun killed him?" She had whispered, awe in her voice._

_"No." She watched him, eyes wide, thirsty for knowledge. She listened to his voice. The way he paused, his heavy breathing. She remembered the look in his eyes, as he watched a figure walk behind her. She turned her head slightly, following his line of sight and recoiled when her eyes connected with those of Ra's Al Ghul._

_"Power, little one. Power led to his downfall."_

* * *

_Please review x_


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